


Spill This Blood For You

by Slayerwithredhair



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Espionage, Gen, Guns and warfare, M/M, Post-Black Panther (2018), Violence, Wakanda forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 01:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14391600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slayerwithredhair/pseuds/Slayerwithredhair
Summary: Set after Black Panther, the world is still hunting Bucky. Everett, Black Panther and Shuri are taking the world apart to keep their secret and keep him hidden.





	Spill This Blood For You

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a drabble I did because I had to write something after Black Panther which was incredible beyond words, and I have no idea what is going to happen after Infinity War but it might be the end of the world as we know it...

The city was incredible. Spectacular even. Everything Everett dreamed it would have been and more. Not that he let any of his wonderstruck shock show on his face however, he had a mission to complete. He snapped his eyes forward and slid into a seat at the bar. 

The waitress looked at him sternly then drew her attention back to the glass she was cleaning. _Just as well I didn't want a damned drink then, isn't it._ He settled in his seat to wait. Okoye and Nakia had told him everything about the man he was expecting to meet. Everything except, who he worked for. That much had been near impossible to trace, which meant the job fell to Everett. 

Mission aside, Everett was beginning to look at Cape Town with a new fondness. They had been here a month now and Everett was only slightly missing Wakanda, indeed a small part of him hoped the mission tonight would fail so they would end up staying longer. 

He scoffed quietly, what had become of the agent he had once been so proud to call himself? Apparently, he had found something else to spend his life fighting for. 

Everett glanced around the bar. He didn't need to see T'Challa, he knew he was there. It wasn't him he was looking for after all. His eyes narrowed as he focused on a smart man dressed in an expensive looking suit and looking very British. Gotcha. 

The man surveyed the crowd for a moment before his eyes settled on Everett and he slid his way over. His head seemed to levitate as if it had its own entity separate to the rest of his body. Small dark eyes set in an angular face made Everett no longer doubt what Nakia had said about this man having killed too many of the Dora Milaje alone, without a team or an army. Well, today would reveal the answers. 

"Agent Ross." Everett stuck his hand out, the formality that had once been ingrained into his very core was now a light-hearted act he could flick on or off at will. 

"Mick Aldridge." The man said curtly and Everett didn't miss the curl to his lips when he eyed the outstretched hand before shaking it. "I heard you have something of mine." 

_Straight to business. A year ago, I would have liked you._ "You heard wrong." Everett said flatly, a brow arching dangerously. 

The man narrowed his eyes, sensing the hostility. "I am here for James Barnes. We know he is in your charge." 

"Fucking called it!" Shuri hissed into Everett's earpiece. After Wakanda had decided to drop the charges against Bucky, the other nations seemed to have lost interest in their manhunt, at least on the large scale as far as he could tell. But Shuri had had a hunch that there was a shadow on them, long before discovering the trail of bodies he left in his wake. 

The little genius had laid a breadcrumb trail and sure enough, it had picked up this fucker. And now it was Everett's job to bring him in. 

"We do not have him." He said slowly. "But we might be interested in making some sort of deal-" he broke off, eyes scanning around him as three men approached, one casually leaned against the bar and called for a drink. 

"Two more on the terrace." Shuri informed him, catching onto the reason he paused. 

"Do go on." Mick said politely. 

"If we pool your resources and our-" 

Glass erupted behind the bar in an explosion of broken bottles and alcohol. Everett went for his gun before he even registered what was going on, but suddenly a large black creature jammed itself in front of him and he fell backwards from the stool. 

He hit the ground hard and scooted backwards, his gun now in his hand, ready. T'Challa and Mick were locked in a fierce match of punches and grunts. One of the men cocked a gun at T'Challa but he dropped to the ground less than a second later and Everett moved his smoking gun barrel onto the next man and fired again. 

"Ross, behind you!" 

Everett arched his back to fire at the awkward angle then sprang to his feet. "Shuri, I told you to stop calling me Ross!" He snarled, allowing his eyes to pick out every approaching soldier. 

"It's less syllables! It saves time!" She snapped impatiently. 

"Arguing over it is more syllables!" T'Challa yelled, slamming down into a man that had been aiming a gun at Everett's head. 

Everett glanced back at Mick, whom T'Challa had apparently abandoned in order to tackle this guy. Mick gave Everett a fleeting snarl and vanished. 

Everett made a lunge for him but T'Challa yanked him back even as Shuri yelled, "Don't even think about it, there's way more outside, you wouldn't stand a chance." 

He heard the engines outside above the screams and chaos of the people still trying to escape from the bar. "Goddammit T'Challa, I almost had him!" He growled, retreating slowly as he eyed his dwindling amount of bullets. 

"He almost had you, you mean." T'Challa said from behind him. "He was reaching for his gun!" 

"What!" Everett spat. He turned a half circle, showing the barrel of his gun to each man with a growl. 

"I saw him! He-" 

"He might've just been stretching." Shuri said flatly. 

"He was not stretching!" T'Challa lunged again and took down another man before he was pushed back. "I know what stretching looks like!" 

"Pretty sure he was stretching, oh great predator." Everett snarked when he felt his back come flush against T'Challa's. 

"That's the thanks I get?" The king panted in a playful tone. Everett knew he was relishing the fight too much. He wished he could say it was the first time T'Challa had made the fight start early, but it really wasn't. 

"Thanks? You cost us a mission!" He shot back, swinging his arm wide and catching a man in a headshot when he tried to raise his gun to the black panther. 

"Got you a present though." The playful voice sang behind him and something tapped sharply on Everett's shoulder. He reached back without looking and his hand came away with Mick's gun. He flicked it to check the ammo. Fully loaded. Everett huffed out a laugh. 

"Forgiven?" He heard T'Challa grin. 

"Definitely not!" He said through a dark smile, weighing both guns comfortably, one in each hand. "Ready?" 

T'Challa didn't wait for another invitation. He flew forwards, a clawed fist catching a man hard in the face and Everett heard bones break as he fired again and again. Splinters of wood from the tables danced through the bar-turned-battle-field and holes appeared in the roof. 

The first gun emptied and Everett slipped it into his waistband awkwardly without breaking fire with the second. 

"Just drop the stupid gun, we have more." Shuri said urgently between instructions to T'Challa, telling him there were more coming through the West entrance. 

"Never." Everett snapped. He swung himself behind the bar and aimed with two hands. He liked this gun, perhaps even more than his own. But the bullets wouldn't last. He allowed himself a moment to check when he ducked behind the bar to avoid more gunfire. 

"T'Challa. Knife!" He yelled, before charging around the other end of the bar. 

"And you said that me teaching you to fight with a knife was a waste of time!" Shuri gloated. 

"I said guns were better!" Everett caught the knife deftly when T'Challa paused his attack to throw it.

"Knives don't run out of bullets." The king growled, sinking claws into a forearm pressed into his neck. 

"Are you seriously ganging up on me now?" Everett slashed and then reeled back as the butt of a gun smacked him across the cheek. "He's the one that started this mess!" His hand covered his cheek and he felt blood. 

T'Challa lunged forward and the man fell at Everett's feet. T'Challa turned to level a look at him before throwing his body into a kick that felled two men. "I said I was sorry." He groaned. 

"Actually." Everett feigned thoughtfulness, swinging his knife again, this time feeling flesh slice beneath it. "I don't think you did." 

"Well that's because I don't think he was stretching!" 

"Boys!" Shuri yelled through Everett's laughter. "For fuck sake, must I do everything myself!" 

Everett and T'Challa paused, side by side and looked at the door. Twelve soldiers were marching towards them. Guns trained on them both. 

_"Shuri."_ T'Challa warned lowly. 

"Shut up. I'm on it." 

The only warning Everett had to realise what was going on was the high-pitched sound of a pin scratching out of a casing and dropping to the floor, before he was flattened against a strong, hard chest and he felt T'Challa's body envelope him the moment the grenade went off. 

The ringing was loud in Everett's ears and he blinked repeatedly, shaking his head as though it would clear it quicker. Where the entrance to the bar had been was now an empty smoking space, bodies littered the floor and he could hear screaming. 

"Not a single civilian!" Shuri sung proudly. "Come on, tell me how good I am." 

 

"Shuri, what did you do?" Everett's mind seemed to be locked in slow motion as he took in the image of all of the soldiers lying motionless on the ground, metres from the grenade. 

 

"Sonic pulse through their earpieces. Took me seconds to hijack their frequency." The farthest soldier twitched slightly and another coughed. 

"Let's go!" T'Challa said sharply, yanking Everett to his feet. "We have to catch them!" 

"We- we're going after them?" Everett blinked. 

"Of course." T'Challa flexed his shoulders, purple energy rippled across the suit, absorbed from the explosion. 

 

"I've hacked the city cameras but you need to go now if you want to catch them." Shuri urged. 

Everett gave his gun a sad look of longing before dropping it to the floor. Mick's gun was secured in his waistband and he pulled his jacket over it before following T'Challa outside. 

His bike was stopped around the back and he threw himself onto it, kicking it into gear. T'Challa perched behind him and gripped his waist with one hand, the other was clawed and ready. 

"Two SUVs. Aldridge is in the second one but you need to take them both out. I don't know who is control here but whoever Aldridge is reporting back to is trying to hack into my system." T'Challa growled at Shuri's instruction but said nothing and Everett tore onto the open road. 

It took them only a few minutes to catch the first car. Everett felt T'Challa tense behind him and the king brought his legs up beneath him to hover on the seat. 

"You know, you could wait until I'm closer-" T'Challa launched himself onto the back windscreen, claws sinking into the metal frame and he pulled himself onto the top of the vehicle. "Or you could just do that... Jesus Christ." Everett cursed to himself, sliding the bike into the lane a good distance behind the SUV. "Just don't fucking die." 

"I don't plan on dying." T'Challa said in a strained voice over the coms. "At least not until I've killed your gun guy. He knows who you are. Why did you tell your real name?" 

"Authority." A jagged piece of roof smashed into the road and Everett swerved to avoid it. "They still think I'm the with the CIA." 

"Not anymore they don't." Shuri muttered. "They know you're with us. I just heard it over the radios. Agent Ross is officially AWOL with the Black Panther." 

Everett sighed. "No turning back now." 

"Sorry Everett." T'Challa yanked Aldridge out through the roof with more violence that Everett thought was really necessary. 

"Don't be. I'm not." He replied. 

T'Challa slammed the man down on the roof of the car, snarling as he sank his claws into the man's neck. 

Everett slowed the bike to avoid the body of the man as it was slung carelessly into the road. He looked up in time to see T'Challa disappear through the hole in the roof. 

The next minute passed in silence and nothing but the sound of fighting came through the earpiece. 

"Come on. Come on." Everett hissed. 

The sound of a gunshot was accompanied by a gold blast through what was left of the roof of the car. 

"Fuck!" 

"T'Challa!" He heard Shuri scream before a loud high-pitched ring shook through his ear. 

Everett scrambled at his ear to pull the piece out viciously, throwing it onto the road behind him and twisting heavily on the throttle. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He brought the bike as close as he could and then brought one foot beneath him as T'Challa had done, preparing to leap onto the vehicle. He'd never done anything like this before but he'd be damned if he would allow himself to wonder if T'Challa was alive for even another moment. 

A mask less face appeared above the roof of the car and Everett swerved violently, relief making his body thrum. "You stupid fucking-" he couldn't finish the sentence. His throat became thick and he put his head down to blink heavily, forcing himself to concentrate on the road and bring the bike steadily alongside the car. 

T'Challa swung down behind him easily and secured his arms around Everett's waist. For a second Everett allowed himself to relax back into the king's arms, giving himself the proof that the stupid fucker hadn't killed himself. 

"We can go now." T'Challa said softly behind him. 

"Go? But- What about the other one?" He sputtered, waking his body up and focusing on changing down a gear. 

"It's done. They won't come back." He said simply. 

Everett didn't ask anymore and slowed the bike down to filter in with the traffic. 

"And if I don't find a payphone to call Shuri she might have me killed herself." Everett heard the grin in man's voice and smiled back even though he knew T'Challa couldn't see it. 

 

*** 

 

Everett pulled the bike off the road and slowed to stop, catching the weight on his foot. He had barely flicked down the kickstand outside the Cape Town University, beneath which Shuri had one of her labs, when a small bundle of fury hurled itself at T'Challa. 

The king caught his baby sister in a fierce hug. Apparently Shuri needed less time than Everett to convince herself that T'Challa was alive as after a second, she extracted herself and punched him hard in the chest. Without the protection of the suit, T'Challa took a step backwards with a wince. Everett knew all too well that Shuri's punches fucking hurt. 

She said nothing, but then laid a hand gently on his face. He was safe. 

The three of them made their way inside, where Shuri ordered them to get cleaned up. 

"So, what the hell happened?" Everett couldn't hold in the rush of emotion as he yanked off his jacket and shirt. 

T'Challa leaned back from inside the other room, his bare torso jutting out from the door frame at an angle. 

"They shot me." He strolled into the room and Everett's eyes skimmed over the rippling muscles before snapping to the bloody gash scored into the side of T'Challa's neck. 

"They did what!" Shuri appeared furiously and yanked her brother down for her to see. "Why do you never ever say anything!" 

Everett pulled a clean shirt over his head and followed T'Challa who was being pulled by his sister none to gently into the centre of the lab. 

"Sit there." She ordered sharply. 

T'Challa smirked at Everett as he hoisted himself up onto the table. 

"How did they shoot through your suit?" Everett folded his arms and watched the great fearsome warrior allow his little sister to roughly tug him around as she patched up the mess on his neck. 

"I took the mask off to try and talk to them- ouch!" 

Shuri punched him. "You are too damned trusting brother! When will you learn?" 

"Apparently negotiations didn't go so well?" Everett raised a brow. 

"They did. They listened to me. I told them I do not have who they were after and that, as they should know, I am fiercely protective of those who are under Wakanda's protection." He met Everett's eyes steadily, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Agent Ross is with me now. And an attack on him is an attack on me." 

"For God's sake, T'Challa, the man was stretching!" But Everett couldn't stop the bubble of laughter from breaking out of him. 

"He wasn't!" T'Challa insisted then jerked when Shuri slapped the dressing on his neck. 

"You're done." She said sharply. "Fool." 

T'Challa pushed himself down onto the floor. 

"And they believed you just like that? Who were they?" She asked. 

"MI6. The British are very trusting." He smiled, then walked back to the room to finish changing. 

Everett looked after him for a moment then shook his head with a snort. 

Whether T'Challa was right or not, one thing was certain for Everett now. There was no going back. Shuri looked at him proudly, as though reading his mind, and he nodded at her. He wouldn't go back even if he could. They knew that.


End file.
